It's probably a good thing I don't have a regular 9-5 job, because I am too ugly to leave the house right now. All, apparently, because I don't know the difference between 11 and 11+.
After being talked into having a real grownup facial by my esthetician last week, I diligently applied the trio of magical post-facial elixirs to my face, as instructed. The eruption of a nasty itchy rash a couple of days later was definitely not what I was expecting.
Yesterday I visited my esthetician, bag of magical elixirs in tow, for an emergency face intervention:
Here is problem. She points to the pot of apres peel hydrating balm. You need #11.
But that is #11, I point out.
No! Vigourous head shake. Is 11+. Is different.
So I am staying out of the public eye for the foreseeable future and I keep my head down when I am forced to leave the house to run errands. I'm trying not to fixate on the itch of the angry red welts on my peeling face, as I apply the correct cream and recall her words of reassurance that everything will be fine.
This could just be karma coming back to bite me for flippantly suggesting that the Calgary indie music scene needs to start sporting balaclavas. Guess I'm just being fashion forward.